


Friends will be friends

by thislooksimportant



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Freddie Mercury/Jim Hutton - Freeform, Band as Family, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislooksimportant/pseuds/thislooksimportant
Summary: “What?” Roger tried to laugh and looked to his other band members for help. “I’m not gonna have a drink. I’ll just get a coke or something, Deaks. An orange juice if I’m feeling really kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows and Freddie laughed at his ridiculousness, nudging him in the side and earning a smirk.“No,” John said again, eyes locked on Roger’s form and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Not to the pub, you can’t come.”“Course you can, Rog,” Brian said quickly, lifting his eyebrows at John who steadfastly ignored him.“But-”“It’s pregnancy, darling,” Freddie cut in lightly, eyes flicking over to Brian and back to John as he tried to keep his tone casual, “it’s not contagious.”“You can’t go.”“Well then none of us will go,” Brian said forcefully before Roger could reply again. There was a fire burning in his blue eyes and Brian really didn’t want it to start spreading. “We’re a band. We do things together.”John opened his mouth as if to respond, but Brian’s glare made him snap it shut./The more pregnant Roger gets, the stranger John starts to act.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, I'm still here
> 
>  
> 
> (also, imagine One Vision era Brian May with Killer Queen era Roger Taylor????? Perfection)

Roger had been unusually quiet all day. They’d been in the studio since the break of dawn, but even recording some of Roger’s favourite songs for the new album hadn’t pulled him out of his funk. Brian had no idea what had set him off, either. Granted, they’d all been a little focused on their recording sessions and hadn’t been spending too much quality time together in favour of finalising riffs and perfecting lyrics, but Brian liked to think that he would have noticed if something had happened to his partner or if he’d somehow put his foot in it.

When they’d finally broken for a minute to grab some lunch, Brian had taken Freddie to one side and shared his concerns. He’d asked him to try and lure Roger into some of their conversations, to try and bring back his smile. Freddie had done his best and gotten a few chuckles out of their drummer, but that was all. Roger had stayed out of the conversations and Brian had missed his boisterous laugh and his eagerness to derail any and all discussions with outrageous suggestions of drum solos and raunchy lyrics.

Also worrying had been that John hadn’t seemed to notice that anything was amiss, keeping his head bent over his bass for most of the day as Brian and Freddie exchanged progressively troubled glances. It was nearly always John who was the one to notice if someone was out of sorts and to offer up words of comfort. In fact, John had barely said a word for the entire day, only speaking when spoken to and more often than not those questions had been about the music they were making.

It had just been a shit day all round, despite their progress, and Brian had longed to go back home and come back fresh tomorrow. He hated feeling as though there was an underlying tension between any of them, a rubber band stretching further and further until it was likely to snap and ricochet off every nearby surface, causing immeasurable chaos as it went.

They finally called an end to their day at around eight, when their throats hurt and their fingers were raw. Brian had hurried through his packing up to help his partner, the younger man flagging visibly and eyelids drooping.

Back in their house, away from the busy world and finally alone, Brian could take some time to pamper Roger, to try and bring him out of his funk without half an eye on the rest of the band and their commitments to the studio. Brian had made them a cup of tea each and quickly prepared some toast that he pushed in front of Roger, staring him down until the other man ate in.

Being curled up on the sofa was one of Brian’s favourite pastimes outside of the studio, nothing better than the feeling of Roger in his arms pressed against him from head to toe. They’d been married for around three years and it was something that Brian was never going to get over, that the beautiful Roger Taylor had chosen to settle down with him and wear his ring. Seeing Roger so down and upset for a reason that Brian didn’t know hurt him more than words could say. Brian never wanted to see Roger as anything other than happy, his head thrown back in laughter as he danced in a club or with his tongue poked out in concertation as he and Freddie worked on a new song.

It had been a long day and between the comfort of finally lying down and Roger’s soft breaths on his neck, Brian could feel himself falling asleep and he knew that if he did, he’d pay the price in the morning.

“Hey, baby.” Brian ran his hand through Roger’s unruly hair, loving the feeling of it curling around his fingers. “I don’t want to sleep on the sofa. Let’s go take a bath, huh?”

Roger turned into Brian’s stomach and hid his face in the soft material of Brian’s sweater, making a whining noise in the back of his throat.

“What was that?”

“I don’t wanna,” Roger muttered. “I don’t wanna move.”

“I know, baby, but you’ll feel better. Wash off whatever happened today that’s got you down. I’ll even use those fancy oils that Fred got us. Get undressed and I’ll start running it, okay?”

“No.” Roger rested his hands on Brian’s thighs and pushed himself up with a scowl, glaring at Brian before he stood up fully. “I don’t want a fucking bath. Just leave me alone.”

 

/

 

Brian knocked on the door to the bedroom, hovering awkwardly in the open doorway. “Hey. Can I come in?”

Roger was lying on the bed in the middle of the room curled around a pillow with his back to Brian. He sniffed loudly and nodded his head, more of a rub against the pillow than it was a real movement, but Brian understood.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, softly, “it’s your room too.”

Brian sighed as he crossed the room in a few steps and perched on the edge of the bed. He reached out and rested his hand lightly on Roger’s back through the duvet, half-expecting to be shrugged off. When Roger leant back into the touch, however, Brian was pleasantly surprised and he splayed his fingers out, stroking gently to try and get Roger to relax.

“What’s wrong, Rog? You’ve been upset all day.” Brian didn’t stop rubbing Roger’s back as he waited to see if the other man would actually start talking. “Talk to me, please. I’m here.”

The room stayed quiet for a long time, the minutes ticking past in silence. After a while, Brian started to hum. Just softly working through a tune he’d had in his mind for a few days that he hadn’t been able to get out at the studio. He lifted his leg onto the bed as he settled into a comfortable position to wait Roger out, rubbing circles with his hand in time to his singing.

“I don’t want a bath.”

Brian startled when Roger finally spoke, his voice horribly quiet and shy. He stumbled over the next phrase of the song he had been humming and waited with baited breath for Roger to continue.

“I don’t – I, I don’t want one.”

“Okay,” Brian said immediately when Roger turned his face further into the mattress, showing he was finished talking. He didn’t even need to think about his reply; at this point, comforting Roger was second nature and Brian knew the best ways to placate him. “Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to have one; it’s alright. I just thought it would feel nice.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to be coddled and treated like I’m different. I just don’t want to have a bath.”

“Okay.”

It really was as simple as that. If Roger didn’t want to do something, then he didn’t have to do it. That was one of the easiest ways to make Roger do something; just pretend that he didn’t have to do it and soon enough Roger would make the decision all on his own. But even if he didn’t, it was only a bath, anyway – it wasn’t the end of the world. Brian stayed there for a moment more before he stood up and reached into the bed for his pyjamas.

Although it was only nine in the evening, Roger was clearly ready for bed. And if Roger was ready for bed, then so was Brian. Even if Roger didn’t want to talk for the rest of the night, Brian wasn’t about to leave him alone. When Brian had changed into his pyjamas and re-entered the bedroom, crossing the room to flick the light off, Roger lifted his head just enough to look over his shoulder and furrow his brow.

Brian didn’t say anything more or give an explanation as he got into the bed and slid up behind Roger, throwing one arm over Roger’s waist and pressing his lips against the other man’s neck. They laid there in silence for a long while, Roger still staring even as Brian settled down into the mattress and closed his eyes, the stress and hard work of the day catching up to him almost immediately and sending him off into a light doze.

“That’s it?”

Blinking awake, Brian cleared his throat before he met Roger’s incredulous gaze. “What’s what?”

“As easy as that?” Roger shuffled out of Brian’s hold to turn around, eliciting a grumpy noise from him, and squinted through the darkness at his husband. “I say I don’t want to have a bath, storm out of the room and go to bed before it’s fully dark outside and you’re okay with that?”

Brian smiled and leant forward for a sweet kiss, his hand sliding down to Roger’s stomach. “You are carrying my baby. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with timelines, so you can read it how you'd prefer. However, the one thing to know that isn't negotiable is that there is NO Veronica or children for John. Pls remember that lol.

“How’s our darling drummer this morning?”

Brian sighed as he accepted the coffee that Freddie was holding out to him. It was a rare treat that he tried to keep away from Roger so as not to rub it in his face, but some mornings he really needed the caffeine.

“He’s better, I think. He wouldn’t talk to me much last night, but he let me hold him when we went to bed so he’s okay.”

When Freddie winked, Brian flushed a bright red. “Not like that, Fred. God.”

Freddie laughed brightly for a moment before he softened. “He’s going through a lot, Bri. He’s bound to have down days. We just have to be there for him.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t like seeing him like that, you know? That’s not Roger. Not the man I know, anyway. He should be snarking back at everything we say, laughing suggestive comments instead of playing, ruining takes by not paying attention.”

“Being annoying as fuck.”

Brian snorted, but nodded. “Exactly.”

“He is pregnant, darling. Mood swings are to be expected.”

“Yeah, I know. This just seems like more than a mood swing. _Really_ more than a mood swing. I felt like he’s been drawing away from me for some weeks now, but he hasn’t said anything about it. I just want to know how I can help him.”

“Coming to rehearsal would be a start.”

Brian jumped guiltily at Roger’s voice and he turned around with a sheepish expression to see Roger leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, resting on the top of his gorgeous bump.

“Sorry, Rog. We were just–”

“I heard.”

Brian winced again, but Roger softened and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Come here.”

There was barely a pause before Brian shoved his coffee at Freddie and took the offering, pulling Roger into his arms.

“I’m fine, Bri,” Roger murmured as he leant into Brian’s embrace. “Honest.”

“I worry about you.”

“I know, baby.” Roger pressed a kiss against the hollow of Brian’s throat and smiled. “But I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

Roger pulled out of the embrace slightly and met Brian’s concerned gaze. “I swear. You and me? We’re always okay. Now come on, I wanna play. Bang out some of this horrible feeling.”

Brian let Roger go, stretching out his arm and trying to keep his fingers tangled with Roger’s for as long as he could without moving. He sighed and tried to collect himself before he followed Roger through into the studio.

 

/

 

Brian was trying to relax. He really, truly was. He was just having a little difficulty in actually doing so because Roger still wasn’t okay, no matter what he had said. He didn’t know what else he could do; Roger clearly didn’t want to talk about what it was that was bothering him and was alright with pretending that everything was fine.

When they had first found out that Roger was pregnant, it had been like when they’d first started out as a band – before John, that was. The three of them laughing together and helping each other practice tricky sections that they couldn’t figure out on their own, spending hours in the studio but even longer at the café round the corner. Whilst Brian and Roger had been closer than ever with Freddie, for some reason John had started to drift apart from them a little more. The more noticeable John’s distance got, the more Roger withdrew, getting unusually quiet as he tried to hide behind his drums. Brian hated it.

Finally, they finished another long day of recording, wrapping up two songs, and Brian stood up with a loud groan, bracing his hands on his back as he arched it.

“Okay, I need a beer,” John said as he stood from his stool and stretched his neck from side to side. “Actually, I may need twelve. Who’s coming to the pub?”

“Oh, me for sure,” Roger replied, cracking his knuckles and setting his drumsticks aside. There was a moment of Freddie and Brian nodding along before John fixed them all with a weird look.

“But, you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t go to a pub.”

“What?” Roger paused in jumping off the raised drum platform and returned John’s puzzled expression. “I’m pregnant, not dead. And I’m only four months, anyway. Not that big.”

“You can’t come.”

“What?” Roger tried to laugh and looked to his other band members for help. “I’m not gonna have a drink. I’ll get a coke or something. An orange juice if I’m feeling really kinky.” He waggled his eyebrows and Freddie laughed at his ridiculousness, nudging him in the side and earning a smirk.

“No,” John said again, eyes locked on Roger’s form and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Not to the pub, you can’t come.”

“Course you can, Rog,” Brian said quickly, lifting his eyebrows at John who steadfastly ignored him. “John, stop being saft.”

“But–”

“It’s pregnancy, darling,” Freddie cut in lightly, eyes flicking over to Brian and back to John as he tried to keep his tone casual. He crossed his arms over his chest and threw back his head with a soft smile. “It’s not contagious. Not even a little bit.”

“You can’t go,” John repeated. “I’m serious. Not tonight.”

“Well then none of us will go,” Brian said firmly before Roger could reply again. There was a fire burning in his blue eyes and Brian really didn’t want it to start spreading. They were so tired and Brian knew any argument would set fire to the whole forest. “We’re a band. We do things together.”

John opened his mouth as if to respond, but Brian’s glare made him snap it shut.

“No, it’s fine.” Roger shrugged as though nothing was bothering him and walked over to Brian’s side. His voice was just a little too casual to be real when he spoke again and his arms were too tense for him to be okay. “You guys go. I’m pretty tired anyway. I’ll just head home.”

There was no response and Brian stared at John in shock when he just turned around to reach for his bag, ignoring Roger and making no effort to comfort his clearly-upset friend.

“I’ll join you,” Brian said, glaring at John’s back and winding an arm around Roger’s waist, hating the way he felt so rigid under his touch. Even when Roger was at his most angry, his body responded to Brian’s embrace. “I’m suddenly not in the mood to celebrate.”

 

/

 

Silence. Brian seriously hated when their house was quiet. Quiet never meant anything good.

Even when he was angry, Roger was loud. He was either shouting and screaming at Brian and the world at large or he was throwing things around, like his shoes at their bedroom wall or the bottles in the bathroom against the tiles. A quiet Roger was dangerous. It meant that he had drawn in to himself, had completely shut down. It was a hint that something was really bothering him. And it wasn’t something that could be solved easily, an anger that couldn’t be thrown out of him via a mug smashing or a stress that couldn’t leave his body through a cigarette or two.

“Want to watch a film?” When Roger stormed straight past Brian and into their bedroom, Brian sighed deeply. “Take it that was a ‘no’?”

There was no other answer and Brian headed into the bedroom, hating the pain in his chest. Roger should never be made to feel anything less than welcomed and beautiful, especially not by one of his closest friends.

Roger was already in their bed again, nearly entirely hidden by their enormous duvet. He didn’t react when Brian crawled in behind him and pulled him close into what was quickly becoming their favourite position. The only reaction he gave was when Brian’s hand slid around his stomach to curl protectively around their baby.

Then, Roger gave a full-body flinch as though he’d been electrocuted or as if Brian had punched him. It was beyond worrying, frankly. Roger never shied away from Brian’s touch; even when he was as mad as hell, he leant into Brian’s hands and took any chance for angry sex. Since he’d been pregnant, he was especially touchy-feely. Where he once would have gone out, now his nights were spent curled up in one of Brian’s old jumpers and a pair of baggy sweatpants, pressed as close as possible to Brian letting the other man draw lazy patterns in his arms or twirl strands of hair around his fingers. To have the young man pull away from him was concerning and Brian shot up like he’d been burned.

“Roger, what’s going on?”

If there was one thing that Roger never did, it was to stop Brian from touching his stomach. It stemmed from a conversation they’d had months ago, when they had first been given the news of the pregnancy. Brian had confessed in the dark wrongly assuming that Roger was asleep, that he felt a sick sense of envy that Roger had such a closeness with their child, that he had nine months to forge a bond that Brian never would. Roger had nearly given Brian a heart attack when he’d reached for his hand and placed it over his barely-there bump, the two of them cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Which it was, of course.

Roger hadn’t said anything, but ever since then he’d pulled Brian’s hands onto his stomach whenever they had a quiet moment and gave him a near-running commentary on updates of their child.

So for him to pull away before Brian could fully feel their baby’s position sent a chill down his spine. Coupled with Roger’s withdrawn mood and his uneasiness of late, Brian’s mind raced through all of the worst possibilities. Everything from their child’s death to Roger’s death flashed before his eyes in a matter of moments and he gasped for air harshly, trying not to spiral into a total panic.

He lasted only a minute or two before he lay back down and reached for Roger almost desperately. Pressed up against him from head to toe, Brian buried his head in blond hair and wrapped his arms around Roger again, needing to feel his husband’s stomach and know that their baby was safe. When Roger tried to pull away again, Brian tightened his embrace.

“Please,” he whispered, not ready to let go, “please don’t, baby. Talk to me.”

There was a moment of silence before, “I’m hideous.”

Of all the things that Brian had been bracing himself to hear, that was not one of them.

“What?” He had to have heard that wrong. There was no way that Roger Taylor had just called himself ugly.

“I said, ‘I’m hideous’.”

Nope, apparently not.

“Roger, you know you’re not–”

“Fat. Fat and ugly and–”

“What? Rog, stop it.” Brian pulled back enough to lift himself onto one elbow and he stared down at Roger in complete and utter shock. “You aren’t ugly, Roger. Where the hell is this coming from?”

“I am.” Roger sniffed, sending a dagger through Brian’s heart, and pulled the duvet up around him even more. “I’m bloated, I’m swollen, I don’t fit into my lovely clothes. I can’t go out drinking and people stare at me in the streets. I’m hideous.”

“Roger, stop it. I don’t want you to hear such vile things.”

“They’re not vile; they’re true.”

“They most certainly are not.” Brian lifted the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight and tried to pull the duvet away from Roger’s face.

“Don’t lie to me.” Roger’s voice was filled with tears and Brian hated it more than he could ever describe.

“I never lie to you,” Brian retaliated, quick and with a little more venom than he intended. “I’m _not_ lying to you now. I wouldn’t, Roger, you know that. And I certainly wouldn’t lie about this. You’re not ugly. And you were fine this morning anyway, dancing in front of the mirror before we left. Why do you suddenly think you are?”

“It’s not sudden.” Roger held fast to the duvet and seemed to curl in on himself even more. “It’s been growing and growing and now it’s finally noticeable to everyone.”

“Baby, please–”

“Stop it.”

“Angel–”

“Don’t call me that.” There was a noise that sounded horribly close to a sob. “I’m not an angel.”

“You’re my angel.” Brian gave a strong tug on the duvet and managed to free Roger’s face. There were tear tracks already staining his cheeks and Brian broke. He lay himself down onto the bed again and pulled Roger into a tight hug. “And that isn’t going to stop because you gain a little weight. Honestly, I love you even more with the knowledge that you’re carrying our baby. You’re gorgeous however you look.”

“I’m a freak.”

Brian’s heart skipped a beat at those words and his arms went slack.

“ _What?_ What the hell did you just say?”

Roger sniffed and used Brian’s momentary lapse to pull the duvet up around his shoulders again.

“I’m a freak,” Roger repeated and it didn’t make Brian any happier to hear it the second time around. “I’m just a fucking freak. A disgusting, freak of nature. Something to stare at, like a circus attraction.”

“Roger Taylor. You stop that right now.” Brian’s voice shook as he tried to keep himself under control. The thought of anybody saying those things about his husband was enough to make his blood boil and his hands tremble, but Roger saying them about himself made him feel sick.

“Taylor-May,” he heard a tiny mutter and it was enough to make Brian surge forward again. “Though I don’t know why you bothered.”

“Don’t you dare say those things about yourself,” Brian said and tugged at Roger until the other man finally gave in and rolled over. “Please, baby. Please don’t ever say that again.”

Brian held Roger against his body, one hand cradling the back of Roger’s head and the other splayed between his shoulder blades. When he felt the tell-tale wetness of tears against his neck, Brian turned his head and pressed soft kisses to Roger’s head. They laid there for several minutes, Brian stroking slow circles over the thick jumper that Roger was wearing.

“I’m hideous, Brian. Men aren’t supposed to get pregnant.”

“That’s not true,” Brian snapped back almost immediately, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could when all he wanted to do was scream. Whoever had made Roger feel this way could burn in hell.

“Who was the last guy you knew to get pregnant?”

“It’s rare, but it’s not impossible. We knew this from the start, angel.” Brian swallowed and blinked fiercely against the hot sting of tears in his eyes. “It doesn’t make you a freak. If anything, it just makes you even more incredible.”

Roger didn’t say anything, but burrowed even closer to Brian. At least he wasn’t pulling away any more, so there was one saving grace.

“Rog, please. Why do you think you’re a freak?”

Roger shook his head in lieu of giving a verbal answer. He tightened his arms around Brian’s back and Brian sighed when he felt a fresh wave of tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to tell me, but you do have to believe me when I say you’re not. You’re not a freak and you’re not hideous. I adore you and I love the fact that you’re carrying my child, _our_ child.”

Roger didn’t say anything more and Brian felt at a loss for words. He didn’t know what more he could say, so he decided to just stay there. He cradled Roger, not letting up for a moment as he whispered soft words to him. Until Roger wanted to talk again, Brian would be there. He’d be there, peppering kisses to tousled blond hair and holding him tightly, keeping him safe.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to reiterate, there is no Veronica or kiddies for John. That being said, I looooooove him.
> 
> Also, if Roger seems out of character, it's because I based him on a very young 70s Roger. Think of Live at the Rainbow version of Lap of the Gods - that's my perfect Roger, who seems quite young and soft to me. But read him how you will, but sorry if he's not quite like Roger should be. 
> 
> Also, the baby is kicking in this chapter and his belly is mentioned as being big - let's pretend that male pregnancies work differently?
> 
> Thanks for the support so far.

The next day was no better. Roger looked like he’d had no sleep and Brian felt like it. He’d probably fallen asleep around 2am, only getting a few fitful hours before he was awake again. They’d lain in bed until the sun had started to come up, neither of them speaking, and then as soon as the radio had clicked on, Roger had rolled away from Brian to get up and face the day.

They were the first ones in the studio and Roger had locked himself away in his isolation booth almost immediately, grabbing his headphones and throwing himself into his practice. Brian had followed at a more sedate pace, even going as far as to make himself a coffee. He held out some hope that his fiery Roger would smell the familiar scent in the air and rush out to moan about the injustice and try to wheedle Brian into giving him some. But no such thing had happened and Brian had gotten through two cups in solitary before Freddie appeared. Despite his messy hair and his baggy clothes, he looked bright and alert, practically bouncing on the spot in his eagerness to get on with recording.

“Morning, darling.”

Brian couldn’t help his smile as Freddie flounced across the room, throwing his coat somewhere in the general direction of the coat rack and claiming the spinning chair by the glass partition.

“Morning, Fred. How was the pub?”

Freddie waved his hand airily as he started to flick through the pile of papers they’d discarded the day before. “Oh, we didn’t go. It just wouldn’t have been the same without you and Blondie. As we were leaving Jim rang me from work anyway, and John suddenly said he was pretty tired. He shrugged off my offer to go to Jim’s bar and just went home. I tried to ring him when we got in, but there was no answer.”

“Oh.” Brian frowned, but before he could say anything else the sounds of Roger’s kit stopped and the man himself appeared in the doorway to the control room.

“Hey, Fred.”

“Morning, gorgeous,” Freddie smiled, making grabbing hands to his friend. “Come and show me the baby. I need to check on my darling godchild.”

Roger laughed and rolled his eyes even as he crossed the room to indulge Freddie. “They’re kicking up a storm. Down on the left if you want to feel.”

Freddie beamed as he placed his hands eagerly where Roger showed him, his gaze turning to one of wonder as he looked up to Brian. Brian laughed and nodded.

“It’s amazing, right? Getting stronger every day.”

Roger scowled. “Yeah, amazing for you pair. You’re not the ones being smacked from the inside all day, every day.”

As Brian blew his husband a kiss in apology, Freddie pushed Roger’s shirt up. He ignored Roger’s indignant yelp at the cold touch as he spread his hands even further over Roger’s full stomach.

“Oh, just feel it. Rog, darling, I…”

Roger smiled down at Freddie and covered his hands, holding them over him bump. “I know.”

“Our little baby.”

Brian lifted his eyebrows and spluttered. “Ours?”

“Of course,” Freddie replied with a bright smile, “ _Queen’s_ baby, Bri. Keep up. This little kicker isn’t just yours and Blondie’s. They belong to _Queen_.”

Brian smiled at the sight of the two men cooing over the unborn child, but before he could say anything more or stand up and join them, the door opened. All of a sudden, the relaxed atmosphere in the room changed and anybody in a ten-mile radius could see how Roger tensed up.

Taking a step backward almost immediately, Roger pushed Freddie’s hands from his stomach and let his shirt fall back down to cover him once more. Brian’s eyes narrowed at his husband’s weird behaviour, his gaze flicking from Roger to John and back again, but Freddie bounced up and out of his seat before he could speak.

“Right, now that everyone is finally here,” Freddie said pointedly, “we can start. Where did we leave off?”

Brian clapped his hands on his knees as he stood up to follow Freddie into the main body of the recording studio and in doing so, missed the deliberate way that John avoided speaking to Roger.

/

“Are you done?”

Freddie visibly startled and turned from his conversation with Roger to squint over at John. “What?”

“This chat. Are you done? Can we get on with this now? We are here to record, in case you’d forgotten.”

Freddie looked at him for another long moment before he shook his head in confusion. “Just waiting on you, darling. I thought you were still on a coffee run. Didn’t realise you were back.” He gave a disarming smile even as John turned on his heel and slammed down his drink, storming over to grab his bass. “If you’re ready, then we can–”

“Yes, I’m ready, I’m here,” John snapped. “Individual or group?”

Brian’s gaze wandered over to Roger and he narrowed his eyes at the way his head was bent down, his hands under his thighs. That was bizarre in itself – if Roger wasn’t tapping away on his drums, he was cradling his bump and trying to get their baby to answer his taps. Brian loved to watch him do it and to follow Roger’s example, already teaching their child about following rhythms and responding to the beat.

“Individual,” Brian replied before Freddie could. “You can go first and I’ll take Roger out for a walk.”

John’s eyes flashed dangerously and Brian glared at him.

“We need to get this album finished at some point, might I remind you.”

“Yes, thank you, John, but it’s also good for Rog to take regular walks. Feel free to record my line, if it’s so fucking important to you.”

John scowl intensified and Brian knew something biting was coming. He didn’t bother to wait for the sharp reply before he urged Roger to his feet and all but shoved him out of the door.

 

//

 

“He hates me.”

Brian startled.

The day in the studio had passed much the same as the two before it; long and repetitive, but ultimately fruitful. Roger’s spirit hadn’t been lifted much by their short walk and it had only soured more when they’d gotten back to the studio to find John even quieter than usual, almost shrunken in on himself in the corner.

Freddie had shaken his head once and given a baffled shrug when Brian had shot him a questioning look, but Brian couldn’t bring himself to pay too much attention after that. His entire focus had shifted onto the way that his husband seemed to curl in on himself with every bitter word spoken by John or whenever he was ignored when he tried to voice something in one of their heated discussions.

The longer the session had gone on, the closer Brian had gotten to snapping. He’d done so well at calming himself and not jumping to conclusions, but it was getting harder every time Roger bit down on his lip or smacked a drum a little too hard in frustration. And never once did he touch his stomach, his hands always staying far away from its beautiful swell.

When Brian had finally convinced Freddie to call it quits and they were allowed to go home – promising to be back first thing in the morning – Roger had taken himself straight off to bed. Brian hadn’t even bothered to argue that they should at least try to eat something before he’d followed, curling up behind his husband in a positon that was quickly becoming routine.

They’d been lying there in silence for so long that he’d started to doze, but the heavy breaths against his neck had led him to believe that Roger was asleep.

“What?” Brian asked, clearing his throat and sitting up so that the urge to slip back off to sleep was gone. “Who hates you? Nobody hates you.”

“John.”

Brian nearly choked on his own tongue. “What? John? _Our_ John? John Deacon?”

“Jesus, Bri,” Roger muttered. “How many Johns do we know?”

Brian curled his hand over his husband’s shoulder, rolling him over to try and meet Roger’s gaze despite the dark. It was true that John had been acting oddly, but this was unexpected. If anything, Brian had been expecting Roger to be angry, cursing their bassist and preparing a bunch of insults to slip into conversation the next day. He hated an upset Roger, even moreso when his sadness was caused by a friend of theirs.

“What are you talking about?”

“John hates me.”

Brian blinked slowly, but Roger’s forlorn expression didn’t change, no hint of cheekiness coming forward or Roger breaking out in a laugh.

“You’re insane.”

“He hates me,” Roger maintained, his voice holding steady even as his eyes glistened. “I mean it, Bri. He thinks I’m a freak.”

“He absolutely doesn’t hate you, you stupid man.” Brian softened his words by rubbing soft circles against Roger’s spine and bending down to drop a kiss to his temple.

“Oh really?” Roger pushed himself up, shoving at Brian until he moved back and let Roger sit up. Staring at Brian, he lifted his eyebrow and twisted his mouth into a grimace. “Have you not been in the studio this past week? Were you not there to hear him spit fire at me or to see him look at me like I was dirt on his shoe? Jesus, Bri, when was the last time we even went to the pub for a drink?”

“You’re pregnant,” Brian said quietly, his thoughts spinning.

“Well, a coffee then,” Roger despaired, huffing and letting his shoulders shoot up and fall down in desperation. “A hot chocolate, even. We used to go out all the time, at least once a week just the two of us. He used to actually _want_ to go out with me, Jesus. He was the one that suggested it all those years ago – back when he was still overwhelmed by us and needed… fuck, Bri, he needed _me._ And now it’s been over a month since the last time we went out.”

“Really?” Brian cast his mind back and his brow furrowed the more he thought on his husband’s words. That was actually a good point, now that he did the maths. Fuck; how had he never seen this? Roger and John often took an afternoon off to head into town and poke around the shops, more than not ending up at the pub for one too many pints before stumbling into the guest room and curling up together. Brian had splashed out at Roger’s last birthday and bought a king-size bed for that room – Roger had a tendency to kick and Brian had wanted to save John from unnecessary bruises. “I hadn’t noticed. He’s just, he’s just moody, surely. I thought…”

“Yup.” Roger sniffed and stretched his arms out to loop them around Brian’s waist, seeking comfort from his husband, burying his head into Brian’s neck. “He won’t even look at me anymore, never mind take me out for a drink.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is.” Brian wrapped his arms around Roger’s shoulders and rested his cheek on the younger man’s head when he heard Roger sniff loudly, his voice choked with unshed tears. “You’ve been there in the studio. You’ve seen it; I know you have. He hates me. He really, truly hates me.”

“John does not hate you. He’s just been… off this week.” Brian couldn’t deny that John had been acting strangely for the last few days, but they’d all been stressed with the latest album and its long hours, and it was starting to show, cracks starting to appear in all of them. Brian really hoped that that was all it was and he clung to that hope almost desperately. He couldn’t bring his mouth to form the words that might break his husband’s heart. “John could never hate you, baby; are you kidding? You’re his best friend.”

“Freddie’s his best friend.”

“We’re all his best friend,” Brian snapped back immediately. “Just like with Fred, and just like with me. John loves you, you idiot. We’re a family.”

There was silence and Brian sighed, knowing that was he was saying wasn’t being believed for a second. He soothed his hands over Roger’s back and pressed another kiss to his head, trying to keep his tone steady. “Why do you think he hates you?”

“He thinks I’m a freak,” Roger muttered, his voice flooded with despondency. “He hates me because I’m such a fucking freak.”

“Baby, that’s not true.” Brian let out a sigh and closed his eyes. God, he felt like shit for not having noticed the things that his husband had been struggling with for so long. He really was the worst person in the world. “And please stop saying that about yourself. I hate hearing you say such horrible things, Rog, I really do.”

“It’s true. After everything John and I have been through together and now he won’t look at me? It’s because I’m a freak. And then there was all that today. And the pub thing. Why else would he not want to go somewhere with me?” Roger looked up at Brian and his mouth twisted. “Because I’m pregnant, Bri. It’s got to be because I’m pregnant.”

Brian could have punched something. Or _someone_. Even more worrying than Roger’s words was the way that his hands rested on his bump, one of either side almost as though covering their child’s ears as he continued his self-derogatory tirade.

“Men don’t get pregnant,” Roger continued, his voice flat and his eyes dull. “We’re a rare breed, all of us freaks and weirdos. Our bodies aren’t meant to grow this way and people are obviously starting to notice. Talking about it is one thing, but having to actually witness it? Nobody wants that.”

Brian splayed his fingers in between Roger’s shoulder blades and pushed enough for Roger to feel his presence and be grounded by it.

“You are not a freak,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time that week, making sure to keep his tone as firm as he could. “Roger, you listen to me. You’re not a weirdo. John just said that about the pub because he was worried about you, I’m sure. He just didn’t want you going to some busy and crowded pub full of rowdy, drunk men. And today, he was just tried – we all were.”

Brian swallowed, wishing that he could believe the words leaving his own mouth. As much as he wanted to deny that John had a problem with Roger and their unborn baby, the more he thought about the evidence, the harder it was to deny. The thought of John turning from them was enough to make his stomach ache and his throat burn with unshed tears and he really didn’t want to entertain the idea.

“You haven’t been sleeping and he probably just wanted you to go home and have a nap. I’m sure that’s all it was – he probably wanted one himself. God knows I did after Fred made me repeat the same line a thousand times exactly the same way.”

Roger sniffed against his neck and Brian squeezed him tight. _That had to be the truth_ , he told himself, _John was just tired of the studio and the long, repetitive days._ Everything was going to be okay – they loved John and he loved them just as much. Brian coughed to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes and pressed a kiss to messy, blond hair.

“Besides, nobody could ever hate you, okay? And no one could ever resent the child that you’re growing. You are amazing; my beautifully strong husband, growing our little baby. Keeping them safe and warm.”

“Him.”

“Right,” Brian said absentmindedly, his fingers starting to stroke soothingly, “keeping _him_ safe… wait, what?”

Roger cracked a tiny smile and lifted one shoulder, the duvet crinkling around him. “It’s a boy.

“It’s a…” Brian trailed off and stared at Roger, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. One of his hands lifted from Roger’s back and moved around to his front, curving over his bump in wonder. “It’s a boy? Oh, Rog; it’s a boy?”

Roger’s smile grew and he finally let out a loud bark of laughter when Brian surged forward and tackled him into a huge hug. Things weren’t solved, but when Brian shimmied down the bed and pushed up Roger’s shirt to smother his bump with kisses, his laughter filled the room and his tears seemed to dry.

 

/

 

“I’ll talk to him.”

Roger stirred and rubbed his cheek against Brian’s chest lazily.

“No, babe,” he murmured, “don’t.”

“I will,” Brian maintained, sliding his hands under Roger’s shirt and letting his fingertips tease out goosebumps. “I want to know what his problem is. He’s my best friend, my brother. I don’t – this isn’t like him, Rog, is it? This isn’t John.”

Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s collarbone and breathed out a sigh, his breath tickling the hollow of Brian’s throat. “No, it’s not. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. But don’t get angry at him. Just be calm, babe.”

Brian let out a huff of air. It was a bit ironic that Roger was the one telling him not to lose his temper, but he nodded anyway, returning his husband’s kiss with one on the crown of his head. “I won’t. I just want to know why he’s doing this. I… I can’t live like this, Rog. I can’t not have John.”

“It’s really not like him, is it?” Roger whispered lowly, his hand sliding down to meet Brian’s and words slurring with sleep even as he pressed closer. Brian smiled weakly at Roger’s attempts at comfort despite his clear exhaustion. “What do you think is wrong?”

“I don’t know. And now you’ve pointed it out, I keep thinking of more and more instances that he’s snapped at us. We have to sort this out. And fast.” Brian swallowed and pulled Roger even closer to him. “This might be the end of _Queen_ if this carries on. I’m not having anyone upset my husband or my son.”

Christ. Brian was having a _son._ And nobody was going to ruin that.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey.”

John looked up from his book and nodded at Brian. His shoulders were tense, but there wasn’t the same amount of anger playing on his face as there was when John was with Roger. “Hi.”

When John turned his attention back down to his book, Brian walked into the room and sat down on the sofa opposite John’s armchair. Brian had never felt out of place in John’s house, not once since the man had bought it. He and Roger had their own keys and a pretty much open invitation to let themselves in – just like John did for their house and Freddie, too. So for Brian to suddenly be feeling as though he was unwelcome or as if he shouldn’t be there was hideously foreign.

Brian sat there for a moment and fiddled with a loose thread hanging from the bottom of his jacket, eyes fixed resolutely on it as though it held the secrets to the universe. A long moment passed before John sighed and set his book to one side.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Brian looked up and met John’s questioning gaze. “What?”

“Don’t, Brian. Something’s bothering you.” John shifted on the chair and crossed his legs, leaning back and letting his form slump, a soft smile on his face. “You can talk to me.”

Brian tried to hold back a scoff at that. He’d always thought he could, but the last however long had made him question that. It was just so confusing because _this_ was his John, so open and kind and always ready to listen about anything Brian needed to rant about. Where the hell had this man been for the last few weeks?

Brian dropped his gaze back down to his jacket as he desperately attempted to not let the angry words that he was thinking slip past his lips. The problem with John was that he could snap in an instant and shut himself down completely. If that happened, then they would be even worse off than usual.

“Okay.” Brian stayed quiet for a long time as he tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts before he let out another sigh. Looking back up to John, he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down – it didn’t work. “It’s about Roger.”

The way that John tensed up and his jaw clenched would have been impossible to miss even if Brian hadn’t been looking straight at his friend. Brian swallowed and tried not to wince, though it was almost impossible. Jesus, _what the hell had happened_? There was a dirty taste rising in his mouth and Brian ran his tongue over his teeth.

“But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

When John didn’t say anything, just curled his hands into fists on his knees, Brian lost his cool. He loved John – the guy was one of his best friends, his family even – but this was _Roger._ Nobody that hurt Roger could get away with it, best friend or not.

“John, come on.” Brian leant forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and dropping his head down onto his linked hands in defeat. He was a second away from grabbing fistfuls of his hair and yanking in distress. “Don’t do this to us. What the hell is going on? It’s _Rog;_ he’s your best friend.”

John didn’t say anything.

“What did he do? John, please,” Brian begged, not ashamed at the way his voice threatened to break. “What’s going on? He’s not sleeping, he’s not eating. He wouldn’t even let me touch his stomach the night before last.”

John gave a full-body flinch at that and Brian felt a sick sense of relief at getting a reaction from him. They all knew how Brian felt about being able to touch Roger’s stomach and feel their baby growing, so for him not to be allowed was near torture. He was glad that John recognised that, at least.

“You’re better than this, mate. I don’t know what’s suddenly gotten in to you, but this isn’t you.” Brian was starting to sound like a broken record and he hated himself for letting it go on for so long. He should have noticed the changes a long time ago and been there to nip it in the bud before John cut them all out. “You aren’t like this; you don’t get snappy and bitchy. That’s what Rog does, not you. Just tell me what’s happened. We’re worried about you, Deacs. Seriously.”

Brian huffed when John still didn’t say anything, but only looked back down to his book as though it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. If John’s sudden change of personality wasn’t bad enough, his complete disregard for Brian’s attempts to help him was infuriating.

“If you can’t tell me, then just talk to someone else, _anyone_. Fred, even,” Brian said through gritted teeth. “He’s usually a pretty good listener. Jim, maybe – I know you two have gotten close lately.”

John’s face twisted and Brian was taken aback by the venom in the small movement.

“Jesus,” he whispered, dragging a hand over his mouth. “Jim too? Why the sudden hatred towards our family, mate? Alright, I can see Rog pissing you off cause let’s face it, he’s damn good at that, but _Jim_? He’s been nothing short of an angel since Fred first brought him round. God, you’ve basically taken over their guest room and the two of you get on like a house on fire. What did he do?”

Brian was nearly on his knees and begging, the questions pouring from his mouth as he tried desperately to understand his friend’s sudden change. It was as if his entire personality had had a complete overhaul, like a spirit had taken over his body. Even when John got angry, he normally let everything off his chest as soon as someone asked him about it. His anger was biting and vicious, but never lasted for longer than a day or two.

Trying not to swear at the top of his voice, Brian swallowed and clenched his hands into fists.

“Whoever you need to talk to, please do it quickly. I can’t stand to see my husband cry and,” Brian swallowed and let out a sharp huff of air, bracing himself for what he was about to say, hating the way the word felt in his mouth, “and call himself a freak.”

“He’s not–,” John started immediately before he caught himself and snapped his mouth shut.

“And of course I know he’s not and I'm doing my best to convince him of that,” Brian continued with heat. “What I _would_ like to know if why he seems to think he is. And I seem to think it has something to do with his best friend stopping going out with him and not letting him come to places with us anymore.”

“He’s pregnant.”

There was a moment of silence whilst Brian waited for John to continue. When it became clear that he wasn’t, Brian frowned.

“Yeah, John, I know. I helped him get that way.”

“He’s having a baby.”

Brian’s brow furrowed impressively. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, John. Rog has been pregnant for four months. What’s changed now? I mean, yeah, he’s weirdly huge, but I… wait. You don’t, you _don’t_ think he’s a freak, do you?”

Brian narrowed his eyes as he stared at John in trepidation, his heart sinking down to his ankles. This was it. This was the moment that it had all been building to. Despite what Roger seemed to believe, Brian had been doing his level best to convince himself that John didn’t have a problem with their relationship and their baby. He really didn’t know what he would do if it was true.

“Because he’s suddenly showing and you’ve just now started to–”

“No.”

“Thank God.” Brian let out a sigh when John shook his head in denial, his whole body moving with the vehement action as his hands started to tremble. “I didn’t want to think that – oh, John.”

Brian stood up and moved over to the sofa when he noticed the tears glistening in his friend’s eyes. He sat down slowly, waiting to see how John would react, and when he got nothing but a small sob, he reached out to wrap an arm around the other man. The feelings battling it out in his head and his heart were confusing Brian beyond belief, but even if he was fuming at the man for upsetting the love of his life, this was _John._

It was Brian’s Deacy; _Queen’s_ John Deacon. He was always going to be Brian’s best friend and Brian was never going to sit by and let him cry.

“What the hell’s gotten into you, hey?”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I couldn't think of a song to name this fic after? How stupid. This was clearly the only option

“You’re all moving on.”

Brian startled and shut the fridge with a little too much force. He was still burning with anger, but it had lessened a little and he was fighting between sorrow and a desperation to understand.

John had stayed silent for a long time in his living room, shaking nearly out of his skin under Brian’s arm with his legs bouncing rapidly. Anytime Brian had tried to ask him what was going on, he had just shaken his head and pressed closer into the hug. Brian had stayed there, dutifully falling quiet and just being there for his friend until he felt ready to talk. When John’s shakes had finally calmed down, Brian had given him one last squeeze and whispered something about a calming cup of tea. It was the perfect solution, in his mind, and it had apparently worked as well as he’d been betting on.

Brian looked over his shoulder to watch John hovering awkwardly in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself.

“What?” Brian asked in confusion, milk rapidly warming in his hand as he squinted at his friend and waited for him to talk again.

“I – well, I mean, it’s…” John sighed deeply and let his head fall forward, chin nearly touching his chest as he scuffed his toe against the worn carpet at the doorway. “You guys are all moving, you know?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Brian said, confusion flooding his voice. “Rog and I just bought our house; we don’t want to move. Well, unless we do get that place down in Cornwall – but that will just be a holiday home. We just did up the nursery here; I don’t want to have to do that somewhere else, too. It was an absolute nightmare.”

“No,” John said, an eye-roll clear in his tone and, _yeah, that was Deacy alright_ , Brian thought, “you’re moving _forward_. Getting on with your lives. All of you. Freddie and Jim are engaged now and you and Rog, well, you two are having a baby. A _baby_ , Bri. And what the fuck am I doing? Where am I?”

“You’re here.”

“For now,” John scoffed, fingers digging into his arms and nails leaving dark red welts in his pale skin.

“No,” Brian said forcefully and crossed the kitchen in large strides until he was standing in front of his friend as it finally all dawned on him. Was this really what all of this had been about? John’s place with them and him being unsure of it? It was an easy fix, really, and Brian could sort it in a flash. All he had to do was speak the truth. “Not ‘for now’. You’re here for good, okay? You’re our best friend and you’re Fred’s best friend. Christ, John, you’re _Jim’s_ best friend.”

“But you all have so much. Relationships, kids, weddings. Your lives are all so full and you have so much else to focus on rather than me and the band. But that’s all I have, okay? I don’t want to be left behind when your baby comes or when Fred heads off on his honeymoon and decides to turn it into a six-month holiday – which you know he will do.”

John gave something that was probably meant to be a smile but was more like a grimace and Brian winced.

“I’m going to be left behind, aren’t I? I always am. This is just what happens to me, okay? I watch as everyone around me goes off and lives the best lives that they can whilst I’m stuck where I always was and left behind with nothing. It’s happened to me before and I don’t…”

Brian stared in shock as John trailed off. He couldn’t remember ever hearing John say so many fierce words in all the years they’d known each other, especially not a monologue so self-deprecating and upsetting. To think that John had been struggling with this for so long was heart-breaking and Brian could do nothing but stand and stare as his friend spilled everything that had been building inside of him.

“ _Queen_ is it for me, Brian. Ever since I broke up with… well. I don’t have anything else so when you all leave, I don’t have anywhere else to turn. I guess I just thought it would be easier to distance myself now, you know? Stop taking Rog out every week or so and getting closer and closer. I’d stop sharing inside jokes with him and stop making so many memories that will only haunt me later on. Stop letting myself get so drawn to his, _your,_ baby so that when I stopped seeing you all it would be easier, less painful.”

“And is it?” Brian asked, the words thick in his chest as he waited for the answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “Less painful, I mean.”

John crumpled and let his head fall forward, his long hair covering his face but not quite able to hide the way his shoulders shook.

“No,” he finally choked out. “No, it’s not. I don’t want to not talk to Rog. I don’t want to yell at Freddie and not spend my nights going over wedding plans with him. I want to be there when your kid is born and convince him that the bass is clearly the superior instrument for them to play.”

Brian let out a wet chuckle at that and reached out to wrap his arm around John’s shoulders.

“You absolute fucking idiot,” he muttered, his fingers stroking in soothing swipes that always worked on his unborn baby and his husband. Although John was a little younger than Brian himself, Brian often forgot their age difference. John always seemed so confident and so sure in his own skin that he came across as more experienced and mature than even Fred, as the oldest. Though shy and often timid, John knew what and who he liked and he wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself with a biting anger. And then on the complete flip side, he was so deeply insecure that it could make one’s heart bleed.

“We’re all in this together, John, for the long haul. We’re a family, aren’t we? That means that we don’t just ditch each other when things change. Yeah, Fred and Jim are gonna get married, fine. But who’s gonna be standing next to them at the altar?”

Brian ducked his head and tried to catch John’s gaze, needing to meet his friend’s eyes in order to show his sincerity. “Us, right? All of us. And yes, Roger is having our baby, and it’s new and it’s scary – it’s fucking terrifying, actually, but don’t tell him I said that because I’m trying to convince him that we’re fine – but when he’s here, he’s gonna need his godparents, isn’t _he_?”

There was a long pause before there was a small sniff and John looked up at Brian with wide eyes, his arms still tight across his body. When John spoke again, his voice was thick. “It’s a boy?”

Brian laughed, the mere thought of his son enough to brighten the mood. “Yes. Yes, he is. Roger told me just yesterday after we finished at the studio. He found out a couple of weeks ago, actually, and I don’t think we were going to say anything to anyone this early, but I don’t think Rog will mind. After all, you are going to be our son’s godfather, aren’t you?”

John’s voice was hesitant when he blinked at Brian and opened his mouth in a gape. “I am? Even after…”

“Of course you are, you daft sod. Who else would we ask? This is a _Queen_ baby, okay? He’s going to need his Uncles just as much as he will need his Dads. God knows he’s gonna need someone to run to when I’m tearing my hair out and Rog is being... well, Rog.” 

John cracked a half-smile at that.

“There he is,” Brian said with his own smile, wider and warmer than John’s as relief crashed through him. Maybe things were finally looking up. “Don’t shut us out, John, because we’re a pretty persistent bunch. We’re not going to let you go.”

“You have lives,” John said, apparently determined to not give in that easily. “You have other things to focus on.”

“Yeah, we do,” Brian conceded with a shrug. “And we’re going to be busy, that’s true. We’re going to go off and do things – I know Fred’s itching to do some experimental stuff that he might well do on his own and, well, it has to be said that Rog and I are going to have commitments outside of the band, but we’re always going to come back.”

“To the band?” 

Brian grinned and tugged on a long curl hanging down near John’s shoulder. “To you, you daft sod. We’ll come back to you.” 

Brian surged forward when John let out what could only be described as a giggle and wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulders to hold him tight against his chest. John clutched at Brian’s shirt, fists tight in the material as he buried his head in Brian’s shoulder.

“I’m going to need you around, Deacy,” Brian said in a soft tone, his hands rubbing up and down his friend’s back. “I have a feeling the next few months are going to be hard and we’re going to be running on next to no sleep and even less sanity. We are really going to need our calm and level-headed John Deacon. There’s no way we’re going to move on and leave you behind. You’re ours, Deacs. Ours forever.”

There was another long moment of silence where John held Brian tightly before he sniffed and turned his head to free his face.

“I know I should be happy for you,” John whispered, a tell-tale wetness hot on Brian’s neck. “And I am. I swear, Bri, you know I am.”

“Of course you fucking are. None of us doubted that, John, not at any point. We were just worried about you. This isn’t like you to be so moody for a long time; we were really worried.”

“I just – I was scared. I’ve found you guys now after so many years of not fitting somewhere, of not having anyone and I don’t want to not have you. I thought if I stepped back now then…”

Brian pulled back and ducked down to meet John’s gaze.

“You will _never_ not have us,” he said as seriously as he could. “Things are changing, quite a lot and pretty quickly, but no one’s leaving anyone, okay? We’re _Queen._ We don’t quit, we don’t leave; we will never go anywhere. No matter what, you’re ours, Deacs, and we love you.”

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months later...

“What are you smiling about?”

Roger beamed as he fell down onto the sofa next to Brian and leant up to press a kiss to his cheek before he pulled something out of a bag by his side. “This.”

Brian dropped his gaze to the tiny onesie that Roger was holding against his stomach. It was a stark white – not the best choice for a newborn baby or somebody living with Roger Taylor – with stark black letters on the front proudly proclaiming _‘I get what I want’_.

Letting out a loud laugh, Brian reached out to stroke over the material. “That’s going to be true. Gonna get that from his Dad, huh?”

Roger giggled and looked down at the babygrow. “Of course. And you’re going to bow to his every whim.”

Brian smiled, but didn’t deny it. “Speaking of getting what you want, how was lunch?”

“He absolutely got what he wanted.”

Brian looked up and laughed at John walking into the living room. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yup,” John said, setting down a couple of glasses of water onto the coffee table. “Talked them into giving us a table by the window and somehow worked in a free pudding. Do not ask me how.”

“Because I’m a sweet-talker.” Roger stuck his tongue out when John rolled his eyes and he cuddled into Brian’s side, tucking his legs up under him. He winced a little as he tried to find a comfortable position, softening into a smile when Brian started to rub easy circles against his belly.

“I’m almost surprised that you didn’t pretend to go into labour to get a free meal.”

“You can do that?” Roger’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and Brian quickly reached his arm around him to pull him down when he tried to jump up.

“You are _not_ doing that.”

“Spoilsport.”

Brian rolled his eyes fondly even as Roger settled down against him again and hugged him close. “Did you have a good time?”

John nodded as he sat down in the armchair, giving the other two a sweet smile. “We did, thank you.”

“Yup.” Roger yawned widely and obnoxiously. “John didn’t even go on for half the meal talking about his amp, so that was a bonus.”

Brian choked back a laugh as John pulled a faux-offended expression, softening when Roger poked out his tongue and kicked at him jokingly.

“Nah, in seriousness,” Roger continued, his eyes slipping closed as he hitched his leg back up onto the sofa, “it was fun. Just like the old times.”

John’s smile was nothing less than beautiful and Brian met his gaze happily.

 _Thank you,_ he mouthed, grinning when John flushed.

“Freddie came round when you two were out,” Brian said, stroking Roger’s hair with one hand. “He said something about silver outfits for the wedding? I just nodded along and smiled in all the right places, but John, I swear you should have seen the look in Jim’s eyes. You’re really going to have to step in and work your magic. There’s no way on this earth that Jim is going to walk down that aisle in a silver tux, even if Freddie’s the one waiting for him at the altar.”

“What makes you think I’ll be able to stop him?” John asked with wide eyes. “Jim’s the one marrying the nutter. He should be the one to stop Fred.”

“Oh come on, Deacs,” Roger said, opening one eye to peer over at his friend. “You know you’re the only one able to calm any of us down. ‘Cept maybe Bri and that’s only cause he’s never done anything that he needed to be talked out of.”

“I married you, didn’t I?” Brian muttered, yelping when Roger pinched him on the thigh. “Please, Deacy,” Brian said, jabbing his finger into Roger’s side and joining his laughter, “you know you’re the one Fred listens to.”

“And maybe if you calm Fred down, Jim will be so grateful that he will let you add someone to the guest list.”

John flushed scarlet and Brian’s mouth dropped open. He looked down at Roger in his lap and back up to John. “What; a plus-one? Our Deacy wants a plus-one?”

“Mhm,” Roger nodded, his mouth twisting into a smug smile. “I didn’t hear much of the phone call before we left John’s, but the grin on his face spoke for itself.”

Brian widened his eyes at the mortified John and grinned widely. “Oh, you sneaky thing. Tell us, then. What’s their name? How long have to been seeing them?”

John glared at Roger, though the effect was somewhat lost with his cheeks as red as they were with embarrassment.

“Oh come on, Deacs,” Roger wheedled, “let me live vicariously through you.”

“Excuse me?” Brian said, looking down at Roger in betrayal, “what do you mean _vicariously?_ What are you missing in your life?”

Roger laughed brightly and reached up to loop his arms around Brian’s neck, tugging him down to plant a kiss on his mouth. “Nothing, baby. You give me everything I could ever need.”

When Brian pulled back, seemingly satisfied, Roger shot John a wink. Brian noticed it and rolled his eyes at John, causing the bassist to let out a lovely giggle and bury his face in his hand. There was a moment of warm silence before John dropped his gaze down to his hands, picking at his fingernails before he spoke.

“Him.”

“What?”

John coughed and blushed as he spoke again. “It’s a him.”

Brian and Roger shared a look between them, Roger’s eyes dancing excitedly and his grin nearly splitting his face. Brian returned it for a moment before he softened his into something encouraging, turning back to John and waiting until he looked up again. When John finally did, his cheeks were a lovely red and he pressed his lips together as he went through a visible battle within himself.

“His name’s Victor.”

Roger coughed over a badly-disguised laugh and John glared at him. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, no,” Roger laughed for real and huffed when Brian poked him again. “It’s not bad. John and Victor. I like it. They fit together nicely.”

John rolled his eyes and Brian chuckled, taking over the conversation. “Okay, Deacs. We’re gonna need more than that. How did you meet him?”

“At the library.”

“The library?” Roger asked. “What the hell do you need to go to the library for? You do know that you’re rich and could just buy all the books you want.” 

John rolled his eyes again and Brian let out a loud laugh. 

“I asked him to go a while back,” Brian said, lifting a hand to play with a strand of Roger’s hair. “They do reading sessions of children’s books – I thought one of us could take our son.” 

Brian couldn’t help the surge of happiness that flowed through him at that, nor could he resist the urge to bend down and share another kiss with his husband.

“I had no idea it would lead to a wonderful love story though,” he said when he resurfaced. Brian winked and John flushed from his head to his toes. 

“Stop it. He’s nice, okay? He took me out for a coffee and I’ve seen him every week since.” 

“Oh, Deacy, you dirty dog!” Roger crowed and pushed himself up onto one elbow. “How dare you not tell us for so long? I demand to know everything else I’m taking back your rights to be my baby’s godfather.” 

Brian shook his head fondly and met John’s eyes with a shrug. “Whilst I wouldn’t take away your godfatherly rights,” he said, “I also wouldn’t mind hearing the story.”

“That’s all there is really,” John said, “I was asking at the desk about the sessions and he came over to check out his books.” 

“More like check out your–”

Brian covered Roger’s mouth and beckoned for John to continue.

“Yes, well, I was wearing my tightest jeans – you know, the ones Fred got me – so I expect that had something to do with it.” 

Brian grinned with pride at the shyness dissolving again for John’s bite to shine through. 

“Anyway,” John continued, a smug smile on his face at Roger’s spluttering, “we said hello at the desk and then as I was on my way out, he ran up to me because I’d forgotten my card. He said he’d heard what I was asking and wondered whether I knew about the baby classes that they sometimes held at the cafe down the street.” John pressed his lips together, eyes glinting cheekily. “So I said that no, I hadn’t been there but that maybe he should take me.” 

“John!” 

Roger clapped his hands in delight and fell back into Brian. “Oh, Deacy! You smooth mover. What did he say?”

“Well, obviously, he took me and we’ve been talking ever since. He called me that night, almost as soon as I was home.”

“I have clearly taught you well,” Roger said, running his hands over his stomach. “Obviously all those years of taking you out to pick up dates have paid off.” 

“Excuse me?” Brian cleared his throat and Roger blanched. “What nights would these be?” 

“Years ago,” Roger said hurriedly. “So many years ago.” 

“Hm, that’s what I thought.” 

John hid a giggle behind his hair and Brian turned his attention back to him. 

“You’ve got a glow I don’t think I’ve ever seen on you before, John. This man has to be something special.” 

“He is,” John said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to pull at a hole starting by the knee in his jeans. “I really think he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so spoiler alert, Victor is Veronica and him and Deacy are going to have 4000 children.

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna get rough and then it's gonna get super soft. Please keep in mind I love these guys so much - so any time they might be acting like a dick, they have their own reasons and they shall be revealed in good time.


End file.
